22 Jump Street
Rating:
Director:
Phil Lord,
Christopher Miller
Writing Credit:
Michael Bacall,
Oren Uziel
Cast:
Channing Tatum,
Jonah Hill
Rated: R
Trailer : www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZQAeIzH-7TE
Genre: Comedy
Duration: 112 minutes
Release date: Jun 13, 2014
I think my favourite bit in
22 Jump Street, the goofy, energetic sequel to
21 Jump Street, is
a car chase almost imperceptibly sped up to jazzy pop music that passes
the Benjamin Hill Centre for Film Studies, presumably an endowment made
by Benny Hill. It’s just in passing and you might miss it, but there
are a lot of these quick, smart and satisfying moments that make the
movie one of the best two hours in a movie theatre I’ve spent lately.
If at first you succeed, try, try again. Or as they say, dude, same
sh-t, different church headquarters. Jonah Hill and Channing Tatum
reprise their roles as neurotic Schmidt and golden boy lunk Jenko,
respectively, hapless partners in undercover crime.
Everything else is also the same, except slightly different. Even the
plot — unearth a drug kingpin — changed, and to do this the boys go
undercover as students. This time, at college.
All this, while being self-deprecating yet without apologizing for it for one second. As a sequel,
22 doesn’t
just acknowledge its predecessor, it wears its insecurity proudly on
the vulgar gesticulations of its sleeve with a slew of meta references.
On everything from the fluke success to the new movie’s “more expensive,
for no reason at all” glass headquarters and overall commensurately
larger budget. “Nobody gave a sh-t about the
Jump Street reboot”
their boss says of their last narc outing, dripping with italics; later,
the captain acknowledges he’s now wearing $800 shoes “and
nobody even sees them.”
Certain generational touchstones used with comedic purposes (like
John Waite’s mournful 1984 hit) seem less the stuff of a 30-year-old who
feels old than of a Gen Xer who’s pushing the other side of forty. Are
they maybe too old for this sh-t? Whatever, dude: Clearly, the boys both
behind and in front of the camera are having a lot of fun playing with
themselves. And as the Devo poster in Maya’s dorm room can attest,
sooner or later, everything gets cool again — including the grunge plaid
and puka shell necklaces that solidify how Jenko has maybe found his
true soul mate in fellow frat bro athlete Zook (Wyatt Russell, son of
Goldie and Kurt).
For fleet of foot Jenko, temptation that derails the investigation is
football stardom and a new bestie; for Schmidt, an unlikely romantic
interest with Maya (Amber Stevens), whose monotone roommate is the only
campus co-ed who notices their crows’ feet. Oh and identical twin dorm
mates Keith and Kenny Yang (comedy duo Keith and Kenny Lucas) whose
rat-a-tat timing is the sort of cleverness peppered among many puerile
and slapstick skits.
The types of gags, they do vary. There’s broad comedy (careening in a
football helmet-shaped minicar that reads “Statesmen”) but also a lot
of stealth spoofing, with setups from
Miami Vice, oblique references in quips to
Magnum P.I. and
Hawaii Five-O,
and throwaway gag or line (Aroma of Christ Church and ah, parkour, plus
an under the breath swipe at Mumford & Sons) and, in a ring that
parts the gyrating tangle of neon
Spring Breakers bikinis, a bare
knuckle fight that incorporates silly sand toys. When the action
relocates the action to Mexico for the final showdown, it’s for little
other reason than to acknowledge more pop culture pastiche, and that the
inevitable helicopter chase on picturesque beach proved too
irresistible. As are aping the caper from the
Mission: Impossible reboot; the industrial tropical rooftop out of one of the
Bourne sequels. And quite a bit of
Marathon Man running.
From meet-cute to time out, break-up and reconciliation, the
friendship layers romantic comedy conventions writ large, underlined and
pointed at in blinkering neon. Only, with dudes. The undercurrent of
homophobia typical of buddy movies is knowingly stretched out in a
sustained bromance conceit that manages to archly condemn and lampoon it
for laughs.
All the details of this comedy are so perfectly stylized to
contribute to it being a good romp, it doesn’t feel like a real
university (and probably isn’t meant to). The name’s the first giveaway:
Metro City State, abbreviated as MC STATE on t-shirts that read for
meaning as a McUniversity. It’s a page straight out of Deborah
Nadoolman’s
Animal House playbook and Belushi’s College
sweatshirt, as is the frat itself. The varsity colours are a bright blue
and orange so uncannily lifted from a Frosted Flakes box, I expected
Tony the Tiger to be the football mascot. And only in the movies could a
no-name brand university afford public art sculptures that look to be
by Ai Weiwei? Oh but the precariously piled chairs just
beg to be crashed through on a chase, don’t they?
It’s not for me to say whether this meta-sequel improved on the
original (haven’t seen it) but it did make me want double-back to watch
it, which is at least saying something.
“This is so, so scary,” is how a real human police officer, like
Schmidt, would actually react if hanging by the ankle from a swaying
chain of a runaway Mac truck in a scene worthy of Buster Keaton’s
outtakes. Well, except if that human is Channing Tatum, who is the
bionic, six-million-shooters frat man. It’s athleltcism that defies the
laws of physics (that, and he’s funny too? no wonder Schmidt despairs).
Don’t leave before the elaborate post-credits montage, for more riffs
on future franchise instalments, complete with contract dispute jokes
and a few good cameos. You’ll want to wring out every last laugh of this
comedy that’s as self-aware as it is fun, and that’s smart
about playing dumb. I hope I’m never too old for this sh-t.
soucer : http://arts.nationalpost.com/2014/06/13/22-jump-street-reviewed-channing-tatum-and-jonah-hill-take-a-page-from-the-animal-house-playbook-in-perfectly-stylized-comedy/
